25
Just after I turned forty, a couple of old friends contacted me through email. I hadn't spoken to either of them in years. They both started off the conversations by saying nice things to me, which was a relief, because when I think of my old friends, I immediately start writing mental apologies.
One of them sent me this:
Twenty five is an amazing, ugly, horrible, beautiful time. I was the bassist in a shitty rock band with potential. I had the arrogance of the musically self-taught. I was Andy fuckin' Partridge, or close to it, so just shut the fuck up because I'm right.
When I tell people that I am difficult to work with, this is the time I am remembering.
One of them sent me this:
Twenty five is an amazing, ugly, horrible, beautiful time. I was the bassist in a shitty rock band with potential. I had the arrogance of the musically self-taught. I was Andy fuckin' Partridge, or close to it, so just shut the fuck up because I'm right.
When I tell people that I am difficult to work with, this is the time I am remembering.